


Tilt Shift

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 30 day challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 16:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 10,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The tiny pieces of a relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Liberosis

**Author's Note:**

> I did a 30 day challenge for Steve/Loki using the dictionary of obscure sorrows as a prompt generator on Tumblr. I'm posting them here because it's easier to keep track of stuff. Plus, there needs to be more Steve/Loki around. I hope you enjoy it!

"Your brother was injured." 

Loki told himself it didn’t matter. “He’s not my brother.” 

Steve, stubborn as ever, set his mouth in a thin line. “He is your brother, Loki, and you know it.” 

Loki couldn’t look at Steve. Not now. “You’re wrong.” 

"He broke his leg," Steve continued, voice hard. Why was he doing this? "He also has a head injury. The fight was pretty bad on all of us but he took the brunt of it." 

"Why are you telling me this?" Loki asked. HIs voice was, mercifully, steady. 

"You can heal people with your magic," Steve said. 

"What makes you think I care to do such a thing?" Loki asked. 

Steve moved, so now he was in Loki’s field of vision. And Loki couldn’t look away because it was almost like a challenge. “You can’t just stand by and let Thor suffer.” 

"His injuries will not kill him," Loki said, looking at a spot over Steve’s shoulder. They were high up on the roof of a building, and smoke rose up from a section of streets beneath them. 

"One day they might," Steve said. 

Loki had the urge to push Steve. No—he had the urge to jump off the building himself if it would get him away from this conversation. He ignored that urge. “I’ve stopped attacking your team,” he said. “I have not even attacked Thor in weeks. What more do you want from me?” 

"I want you to feel how I feel," Steve said. 

"I can’t do that," Loki said. "It would be foolish." 

"Why?" Steve asked. He knew why. They both knew why. And they both knew that Steve felt differently about it than Loki did. 

Loki didn’t respond. 

"I care about Thor," Steve said. 

"That makes one of us," Loki muttered, still not looking at Steve’s face. 

Steve sighed. “You’re a good liar,” he said, “but not that good.” He walked past Loki, who heard the sound of a door opening and closing. 

It was quiet save for the distant sounds of sirens piercing the air. Loki would not follow Steve.


	2. Nighthawk

Loki glanced at Steve, asleep next to him. The first time, it had been a mistake. An accident. They were both exhausted. They hadn’t meant to fall asleep together. 

The second time, it was unexpected. 

The third, the fourth…

Steve looked so calm in the darkness, chest rising steadily, eyelids fluttering, as if he was in a dream. He probably was. 

Loki wanted to sleep, but he couldn’t. 

He kept thinking about mistakes. Was this one? Did Steve consider it a mistake? 

It bothered him, this doubt, but he couldn’t shake it. It gnawed at his insides and made him want to run, to never stop running until he was too tired to think about whether someone could genuinely enjoy the company of a monster. 

He couldn’t run, because if he did he might not come back. And then Steve would regret it. He would think it was a mistake. 

Loki felt constantly on the edge of disappointing Steve. The urges to hurt, to destroy didn’t go away just because one mortal took the time to try and understand. Anger still uncurled within him every day, and it was a struggle to do everything right, to convince himself that he wasn’t what he’d tried to hard to be when he’d tried to take over Steve’s world. 

He couldn’t sleep, because he saw his sins laid out for him in dreams, made a thousand times worse by imagination. 

Steve sighed in his sleep. Loki put a hand on his chest to feel the movement of his breathing, and he closed his eyes.


	3. Dead Reckoning

When Steve fell, Loki went blank.

He hadn’t even meant to watch the latest battle between the Avengers and one of their enemies. But lately he’d been finding himself keeping an eye on the news, telling himself it was because he was interested in how others handled the Avengers. It had nothing to do with whether or not he would ever see Steve again.

He’d been outside, just walking, when the fight started. Buildings were on fire and people were screaming and Loki found himself pulled against the crowd, running towards the action rather than away.

He got there just in time to see Steve take a blast to the chest from a weapon that shot pure energy. He fell, and everyone else was too occupied to take notice. Loki dispatched of the person who’d shot Steve before he knew what he was doing. There was blood. He didn’t care.

He knelt down at Steve’s side and was sickened by the burnt, gaping wound in his chest. He wouldn’t heal from that. Loki presses his hands on the wound and channeled his magic. He felt the skin knitting, healing, felt Steve take a shuddering breath and before he could open his eyes Loki disappeared.

He ended up a few streets away, Steve’s blood drying on his hands, shaking and trying to stand up straight but too dizzy to move. Steve was a super soldier, but he was also mortal. And Loki couldn’t stand it.


	4. Pâro

"What’s wrong?" Steve asked. 

It was a question often asked and rarely answered. Loki knew what was wrong. He was wrong. But he couldn’t tell Steve that. He didn’t expect him to understand. 

"Nothing," Loki said. 

Steve sighed. Loki felt a pang of frustration. Once, he could have lied to Steve and Steve would have been convinced. Now he couldn’t even do that. 

"I’ve spent a lot of my life asleep under the ice," Steve said, "but I do know that good relationships involve trust."

"Do you trust me?" Loki asked, harshly, expecting that despite their time being friends and something more, despite Loki’s relatively clean record for the past few months, he would always be the one who tried to destroy Steve’s world, who did terrible things, who was soaked in the blood of so many. 

"Yes," Steve said, without hesitation. "I do." 

Loki stared at him. And for all the words he knew how to wield, for all that words were his playthings, right now he found himself without the right words. 

And Steve—foolish, kind Steve—didn’t think any worse of him for it.


	5. Rigor Samsa

There were things they didn’t talk about. They didn’t talk about the attack. They didn’t talk about Thor. They didn’t talk about where Loki came from. They didn’t talk about how they first met. 

Steve wanted to talk about these things. He knew that they should have, by now, delved into deeper topics of discussion about each others’ lives. And Steve did. He talked about the war, about Peggy, about his team, about what he missed. He showed Loki his art. 

Loki remained elusive as ever. Steve only knew the Loki who had attacked New York City, the Loki who presented himself as the picture of calm now, and the Loki that Thor loved. 

At the moment, none of these were true. 

Loki could try and ignore the past, but he couldn’t ignore it forever. 

**

It caught up with him during a walk in midtown Manhattan. Loki may have based his invasion at Stark Tower, smack in the middle of the huge city, but he had never really taken a look from the ground. He allowed himself to be drawn by the crowd into Grand Central Station, through the vast hall where people gathered to stare at the ceiling and wait for their trains, and into one of the side hallways. 

The wall was adorned with a metal mural. 

Loki stepped closer to take a look and wished he hadn’t. 

It was a memorial with the image of the Avengers grouped around the rubble. Loki’s eyes were drawn to Thor’s face, grim, and then to Steve’s, exhausted. Whoever had designed this seemed to have wanted to be as accurate as possible. There were no triumphant smiles, no inspiring looks. On the side were names, many names, of the people who died. 

Loki’s breath caught in his throat. 

He’d run straight into the thing he tried to avoid. 

Around him, the station disappeared. The names remained, and he couldn’t look away.

**

Steve was making dinner when a voice behind him said, “I want to forget.” 

He turned around to see Loki standing there. Standing was a generous term; Loki’s eyes were bloodshot, his face pale, and he was swaying on his feet. Steve turned off the stove, suddenly not hungry, and rushed over to guide Loki to the couch. Loki let him without comment, which was disturbing. He smelled of sharp alcohol. 

"Loki," Steve said. Loki’s breathing was sharp and he wouldn’t look in Steve’s direction. "What happened?" 

"I saw them," Loki rasped, and then he let out a choked sob and covered his face. 

Steve pulled Loki into his arms. He didn’t need to ask what Loki meant.


	6. Keyframe

Their relationship did not revolve around the invasion. It should have. For most other people, it probably would have. It had been a turning point for both of them, a first impression, an important test to pass or fail. 

Their relationship revolved around a moment a little over a year later, when Loki asked Steve about his drawings. 

This wasn’t the first time they’d interacted since the invasion. Loki had come back, to complaints and attempts at capture and ultimately, to the resignation of the Avengers that he would be around. Steve was one of the few people willing to give Loki anything. And Loki took advantage. 

On this day they had met up for coffee and Steve had mentioned, a few times, that he used to draw. Still did, sometimes. Loki said, “Do you still have your drawings?”

"The ones from after the ice," Steve explained. 

"Do you enjoy it?" 

"Yeah. It helps me, sometimes. I like showing people how I see things." He laughed. "Even though no one ever sees it. I could show you, if you want?" 

Loki nodded. “I do.” 

After a few hours spent looking through Steve’s drawings—of Stark Tower, of the overwhelming crowded nature of modern Times Square, of a young waitress taking orders in a cafe, of Tony Stark and Bruce Banner concentrating hard on their latest project—Loki seemed quite in awe of Steve’s talent. 

"Do you draw?" Steve asked. 

Loki shook his head. Then he said, “I do magic. I can show you, if it interests you?”

Steve answered, “It does.”


	7. Gnossienne

The hollow look in Loki’s eyes was too much for Steve. He felt angry. He felt sick. He demanded that Loki feel something, anything. There were people dead from the latest altercation between the Avengers and an enemy. They hadn’t been able to save all of them. Or even a lot of them. 

Loki just watched Steve work out his rage without saying a word. It was strange, to see Loki so quiet when he usually had a response for everything. When he relished using words as a weapon. But something was different. 

"Why don’t you feel like I do?" Steve asked him harshly. He expected Loki to snap back, or look away, or something. 

Loki merely said, “I’ve seen worse.” 

"There are whole families who died-"

"I know," Loki said. And that was all he would say on the matter. 

Later, Steve was awake next to a sleeping Loki. His anger had faded into exhaustion. Loki had listened to him, but he hadn’t responded. And Steve couldn’t try to force him into a reaction forever. 

He thought about Loki’s response, that he’d seen worse. Was it that Loki wasn’t capable of feeling anything at the sight of horrible crimes? Or that it didn’t surprise him? Or that he knew better how to deal with it? 

Loki was never the calm one, not around Steve. But this time he was, and Steve didn’t know what to make of it. Now that Loki was asleep, face set in a grimace that suggested that his rest wasn’t restful, Steve had calmed down, had stopped yelling, had allowed himself to be comforted in the small ways that Loki knew how to comfort, and now he could think. 

Loki had been alive for over a thousand years in a society whose most prominent citizens were warriors. Thor was an excellent fighter, and Steve wondered how many battles Loki had seen. How many injuries. How much death. 

That was just what he knew about Asgard. There was what he didn’t know. That Loki had been with the Chitauri, another warrior society led by a creature who thrived on death. He didn’t know about Loki’s fall through the void, only that it happened and that Loki wouldn’t talk about it. 

There was a lot, Steve realized, that he didn’t know. 

It was very possible that if Loki didn’t react the same way Steve did, it wasn’t because he didn’t want to. He probably understood. But he had moved past the point of Steve’s rage and horror long ago. 

Loki didn’t look old. Often, Loki didn’t act old. But some things gave his age away. The hollow look in his eyes from earlier. The way he talked about ancient knowledge like magic and how he seemed to be brimming with intelligence about the universe. The way he’d perfected his words as weapons, the way no one could predict what he would do next when he didn’t want them to because he’d learned over centuries how to lie and lie well. How the number of terrors that plagued Loki’s mind never seemed to run out. How angry Loki became over a lie from his childhood, because that lie had lasted hundreds of years, longer than Steve had been alive, longer than he’d been frozen in the ice. 

Loki didn’t react the same way as Steve because he wasn’t the same as Steve. He wasn’t the same as any of them. 

And yet he was trying to understand. Was doing his best to comfort Steve. It was a huge step forward from the man who had tried to take over the world, who had viewed humans as lesser beings with lives so short that they weren’t worth saving. 

Steve watched Loki for the rest of the night, turning this over in his mind and hoping that one day, Loki would be able to tell him about his past, about Asgard, so that Steve might understand him. Until then, he would have to come to terms with not knowing. He would have to stop pushing, stop getting angry, and to let Loki reveal more and more in his own time.


	8. Anecdoche

"Loki-"

Loki moved just out of reach and grinned at Steve. “You’ll have to catch me.” 

Steve sighed in frustration. “Loki, please-” He took a step forward. Loki took a step back. “Are you drunk?” There was an empty bottle on the floor under the coffee table by Loki’s feet. 

"Does it matter?" Loki countered. "I thought you wanted to have fun." 

"I did," Steve said, and Loki raised an eyebrow. "I do, but, look, Thor told me-"

"Would you like a drink?" Loki asked. 

"I don’t get drunk," Steve reminded him. 

"I have vodka," Loki said, and as Steve took a step closer again, Loki took another step back, "dark rum, tequila, which Stark assures me is excellent, amaretto. Soda." 

"You don’t need anything else to drink," Steve said. He took another step closer, and Loki stayed where he was. "Look, I saw-" 

"I don’t want to drink alone," Loki told him, moving closer. Steve was surprised, and then Loki closed the distance between them and kissed him hard, and Steve knew what it was, knew it was a distraction. Loki tasted of sharp alcohol and desperation. 

Steve pulled away first. “Loki,” he said. 

Loki danced out of his grip, saying, “I’ll surprise you,” and disappeared into the kitchen. 

Steve sat heavily on the couch and put his head in his hands. He would have to go back to Thor. Would have to tell him that Loki didn’t tell him that he felt about the letter Thor had sent, even though he knew Loki had read it. He couldn’t lie as well as Loki, but he wished he could, if only to make Thor feel better. 

Loki returned with two glasses of a strange looking orange cocktail and the insistence that there was nothing to talk about.


	9. Adomania

It was Steve’s birthday.

Twenty-seven seemed such a small number compared to over 1,000, but it wasn’t. Not when most humans lived to 60, 80, even 100. Twenty-seven was over a quarter done, maybe even a third, maybe more because Steve wasn’t exactly careful with how he lived, and twenty-seven could very well be his last. 

Loki wanted to enjoy the birthday. He made food and a cake, spent time doing Steve’s favorite things, took him to his favorite spot from which lower Manhattan could be viewed, endured the presence of the Avengers, cuddled with him while watching a movie, and settled down in a warm bed. 

Steve fell asleep. Loki did not. 

It was almost midnight, and Steve would start his twenty-seventh year, and Loki knew that twenty-eight would come fast. And then the rest of the years until there were no more years, and Loki, who had been alive for thousands, who had experienced but a handful of close deaths, could not prepare for Steve’s last years in that amount of time. 

Steve wouldn’t understand. Steve processed time differently. He had been alive for over seventy years but he’d been asleep for most of it. He was still young at heart, just more disconnected than most, having seen more than most his age and experienced more change. And that was still a heartbeat compared to what Loki had seen and experienced. 

Steve would say, “Don’t worry. You have plenty of time with me. I don’t die easily, and I have decades left.” 

Loki did not say, “Decades are not enough.” 

Loki did not say, “I can’t watch you age in a few years more than I have aged in several centuries.” 

Loki did not say, “I can’t imagine living with the pain of loss for hundreds of years after you’re gone.” 

Loki did not say anything at all.


	10. Keubiko

Steve sat on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. He heard the sound of soft footsteps pacing in front of him. He wanted to say something, but his voice was stuck in his throat.

"You’re angry at me," Loki said from somewhere in front of him. 

Steve didn’t look at him. 

"They tried to hurt you," Loki continued, voice flat. 

"You didn’t have to kill them all," Steve managed. 

A sharp intake of breath. “I’m not sorry,” Loki said. 

That was the problem. That was always the problem. Loki had one way of viewing things and Steve had another way and what they thought was right sometimes clashed. And when it did, it wore Steve down. He didn’t like to see Loki killing so many so violently. It reminded him of before, of the attack of Manhattan. 

"I did it so you wouldn’t have to," Loki said, the words backed with more force, as if he were willing Steve to understand. 

"It didn’t need to be done at all," Steve said. 

Silence, from Loki. Steve waited a few more minutes. He didn’t want to move, but eventually he lifted his head. 

The room was empty. 

They would move on. They always did. Times like these, it was better that they remained separate, or else they might fall apart permanently. And as much as it bothered him, what Loki did sometimes, what Loki did in his name sometimes, Steve didn’t want that. 

But now, he needed to sit in his room, alone, and try not to think.


	11. Monachopsis

No matter how much time Loki spent with them, he was not human.

It wasn’t that. Or rather, it wasn’t just that. Loki had always been hard to connect with, separate, and this held true no matter what planet he was on or who he was with. 

Steve had taken him to Times Square to show him the heart of New York City. It was full of buildings crowding in on each other, disappearing into the sky, not elegant like Asgard’s spires but certainly attention-grabbing. On the ground, the streets merged into a snarl of cars and people lit by neon lights. The sound of cars honking their horns, of people yelling, of everything at once grated on Loki’s nerves. 

He couldn’t help but think that all of the humans here would die in a heartbeat. In the span of only a few decades, this place would be full of people from an entirely new generation of humans. Humans who, despite dying constantly, never seemed to decrease in numbers. 

There was no place like this on Asgard. 

"When I was younger," Steve said, "this wasn’t like this. There were no flashing lights. Not as many people, or cars. I’m pretty sure some of these buildings didn’t exist. And it was the first place I saw when I woke up." 

They were standing on an island between two roads, surrounded by people pushing up against them, and Loki felt completely detached. It was only him and Steve. 

"Do you hate it?" Loki asked. 

"I thought I did," Steve said. "But I think I love it now. Despite everything, we can grow and change." 

Loki thought of how stagnant Asgard was. A product of a species who lived for too long. 

"Do you like it?" Steve asked. 

Loki almost told Steve that these were the people he’d tried to kill not too long ago. He didn’t. But it was strange. 

"I don’t know," he said. 

Steve led him across the street and Loki tried to ignore the push and pull of everyone around him, willing him to follow them down the street, to be swallowed up by the throng of humans and lost to them.


	12. Semaphorism

"I have to go for two weeks," Steve said.

He knew Loki would be angry. He cooked a lovely dinner and dessert and had set aside this night for the two of them, and he knew it was manipulative and he knew he should have just told Loki straight out, but Loki took these things hard.

Loki set his drink down. “Where?” he asked.

"Mission," Steve said. "Avengers. Siberia."

"What kind of mission?"

"Infiltration," Steve answered. Loki was too calm, and it was putting him on edge. "Finding the base of a group of terrorists we’ve been dealing with for a while." 

"When do you leave?" 

"In two days." 

Loki nodded, expression blank. He picked up his drink again and took a sip. 

Steve felt awkward, and he didn’t know what to do with himself. He said, “SHIELD really needs us to do this. Normally, we wouldn’t agree, but we’ve been dealing with these criminals for so long-“

"I understand," Loki said. 

"Are you gonna be okay here?" Steve asked, because Loki would never say if he wasn’t. 

"Of course," Loki said. "I needn’t remain in one place for the duration of your absence. Unless that is what you expect of me?" He raised an eyebrow. 

"No," Steve said. "I just—you know." 

"Is something wrong?" 

"No, just-" Steve took a deep breath and let it out. "Sorry. It makes me nervous. Do you want another drink?" Loki’s glass was empty. 

"Yes," Loki said. 

Steve plucked the glass out of his hand and went into the kitchen to pour a generous second serving. He tried to take Loki’s calmness at face value, but the nervous, nagging part of him insisted that Loki was hiding something.


	13. La Gaudiere

"I’m a monster," Loki said. 

Loki said it often, and Steve didn’t believe him. Steve had seen Loki do horrible things, say horrible things, and he would never believe that Loki was a monster. He didn’t believe Loki was a monster when Loki was trying to take over the world. He’d seen real monsters. 

Loki cared too much to be one of them, even if he did his best to pretend he didn’t care at all. 

"I destroy everything," Loki said, after he had a fight with Steve about killing Steve’s adversaries in a far too violent manner. 

"You don’t have to," Steve told him. "You have a choice and I know you’re capable of making the right choice." 

And still, Loki pushed him away. And still, he pretended not to care that he no longer had a home, that his brother was heart broken, that sometimes he needed Steve and Steve needed him. 

And they had this fight (because Loki made it a fight) often, in circles, never reaching a conclusion. 

"Then what," Loki snapped, after Steve had told him yet again that he wasn’t a monster, "do you see in me that isn’t monstrous?" 

"You’re capable of love," Steve said. "You don’t show it often. It’s like pulling teeth to even get you to be nice. But you showed me."

Loki paled and stared at Steve, like he couldn’t quite believe it. “I didn’t-“

"You did," Steve said. "And I believe it."


	14. Astrophe

Steve observed Loki often.

As an artist, it was in his nature to observe. He had sketches of Loki in his quiet moments, the rare ones where he wasn’t overcome with some sort of intense emotion (usually anger), when he wasn’t threatening violence upon some enemy, when he wasn’t trying to lie to others to protect himself. These were Loki’s moments of true calm and honesty, and Steve loved them. 

He never would have thought, before, about associating the words “love” and “Loki,” but now he associated them more and more. Steve’s love was careful, but when it manifested it was certain. 

There came a time when he had to tell himself that, despite Loki’s faults, he was in love. 

This was one such evening where Loki had fallen asleep on Steve’s lap while watching a film. Loki did not sleep well often, so Steve was always hesitant to wake him when he did fall asleep. Loki had too many anxieties and nightmares to guarantee a healthy amount of sleep every night. 

He looked so calm, and Steve thought, “What would you say if I told you I love you?” 

He knew what Loki would say. Loki would ask how, and why. He’d call himself a monster. Loki would not accept it because he couldn’t fathom how anyone could like him, let alone love him. Steve had seen Loki react similarly to Thor wanting to remain his brother even as Loki denied him, and it made him upset. He hated that Loki thought so little of himself, and he wanted more than anything for Loki to be able to accept love with the ease he accepted hate. 

It was becoming almost a need, for Steve, to see Loki able to do such a thing. 

He smoothed Loki’s hair from his face, gently. Loki didn’t stir. It was a deep sleep. 

This was a conversation for another day. 

Still, Steve whispered, “I love you,” because this was the only time Loki would accept it without question, in his sleep.


	15. Chrysalism

Lightning arced across the sky, followed a few seconds later by the harsh clap of thunder. Rain pummeled the window.

Loki was staring out the window looking as though he were trying to hold back some sort of negative emotion. 

Steve came out of the kitchen with two mugs of tea and stood beside Loki, handing him one. Loki took it and frowned. 

"I like drinking something warm during storms," Steve said. 

"It’s warm outside," Loki pointed out. 

"Doesn’t matter," Steve said. "It’s just relaxing, this kind of weather. When you’re not in it. If I was outside I wouldn’t be relaxed." He laughed. "Come on, relax." 

"I’m not fond of thunder," Loki said. 

"I know," Steve said. "But a storm is more than thunder." He led Loki over to the couch and they sat down. Steve took a blanket laying nearby and draped it over both of them. 

"This is silly," Loki said. 

"It’s warm," Steve said. 

Loki sighed and took a sip of his tea. He leaned into Steve a little, and Steve grinned. 

"This is not terrible," Loki said after a moment of listening to the storm rage outside and feeling the warmth of another person against him. 

"High praise, from you," Steve said. 

Loki rested his head against Steve’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He was trying, really trying, to enjoy this as Steve would. Steve could tell. 

The storm reached a crescendo outside, the rain hitting the glass of the window hard enough that it seemed like it might break, the thunder practically shaking the building. 

Steve leaned his head against Loki’s and murmured, “You okay?” 

"Yes," Loki answered, barely a whisper. 

Steve closed his eyes and listened to Loki’s breathing and felt the comforting weight of Loki’s body against his and the storm outside faded away.


	16. Degrassé

"We should go star gazing," Steve said. It was dark, and looking out the window he could see nothing but the glow of millions of lights against the sky.

"Star gazing," Loki repeated. 

"Yeah. We’ll go out into the country where we can actually see the stars and look at them," Steve said. "I bet they’re different than the stars you saw…in the past." 

"No," Loki said. 

Steve was surprised. “Why not?” 

"I don’t want to," Loki said. "You can go. I won’t." 

That was the end of that discussion. 

A few days later Steve decided to bring it up again. He and Loki were walking after dark down streets lined with buildings after a nice dinner. When Steve asked Loki about the possibility of going to the country and watching the stars, Loki stopped. 

"I told you no," he said, anger creeping into his voice. 

"You never told me why," Steve said. 

"Do I need a reason?" Loki asked. 

He didn’t, not really, but Steve said, “Most people love seeing the stars on a clear night. They’re beautiful. It makes you think about how big the universe is.” 

Loki barked a laugh. “I know how big the universe is. Do you want to know what is up there? Do you really want to see it?” 

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?” 

"I have fallen through the void," Loki told him, "the space between the stars. It is not as beautiful as you wish to believe. There is loneliness, and silence, and cold, and when there isn’t there are monsters, there are many things you wish you would never have to see. I don’t need you to tell me romantic lies about the beauty of the universe beyond this planet. I have seen the truth." 

Steve didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t really say anything of value. “I didn’t know,” he said, after a moment. Loki still looked angry, and pale, and like he had a lot more he wanted to say on the subject. “I’m sorry.” 

"For the moment," Loki said, "I like being grounded." He turned and resumed walking down the street. 

Steve followed him, uncomfortably made aware again that no matter how much he thought he knew about Loki and his life, there were things he would never really understand.


	17. Flashover

"Thor’s been injured," Steve said. He was covered in the dust from a nearly destroyed building and there was blood running down a cut on his face. 

"I’m not surprised," Loki said. They were in his bathroom, and Loki was wetting a cloth with water from the faucet. 

"He was stabbed," Steve said. "Lost a lot of blood. Medics got to him in time-"

"It would take a lot to kill Thor," Loki said, "unfortunately." He wiped at the blood on Steve’s face and Steve flinched, not from the sensation of cold wet cloth on skin, but from Loki’s words. 

"It was bad," he said. "A human wouldn’t have survived it." 

"Thor is like a cockroach," Loki muttered, rubbing a cloth a bit harder against Steve’s skin. 

This time Steve pulled back. “You grew up with him.” 

"I’m only disappointed that I didn’t get to do it myself," Loki said. "Come here." 

"No," Steve said. "I’ll do it myself." 

Loki’s eyes narrowed. “You’re angry.” 

"Yes," Steve said. "Your brother almost died-"

"He’s not my brother!" Loki snapped. 

"He still considers you his," Steve shot back. "Why don’t you care?" 

Loki allowed the wet cloth to fall to the floor with a splat. He moved forward, pushing Steve against the closed door. “Do not talk to me about Thor.” 

"Why not?" Steve asked. "You spend so much time pretending you hate him, but you’re lying." 

"Perhaps I am lying for a reason," Loki snarled. 

"You don’t need to lie to me," Steve said. 

Loki’s eyes burned into Steve’s, and then he stepped back. “He is not dead,” he said. “Anything else is irrelevant.” Before Steve could protest, Loki pushed past him out of the bathroom. 

Steve picked the bloody cloth off the floor and finished wiping the blood off his face.


	18. Nementia

"Loki, stop."

Loki didn’t listen. Loki grabbed Steve by the arm and spun him around. Steve resisted, but Loki was surprisingly strong, and when Loki attempted to elbow him in the face, Steve had to retaliate by grabbing Loki’s arm and twisting it around.

They had been sparring. Not serious sparring, at least not on Steve’s part, until Loki’s movements became more violent, taking things into real fight territory.

Steve wasn’t prepared to fight Loki like that. It reminded him too much of when they first met, when Loki would have killed them all.

(Many people doubted that Loki wouldn’t kill them all given the opportunity. Steve ignored these doubts.)

But something had gotten under Loki’s skin.

Loki wasn’t listening, and Steve knew that the only way to get Loki to stop would be to pin him to the ground and keep him there until he calmed down. But Loki was making that difficult. Their fighting was like a dance, and Steve didn’t know the moves.

Loki managed to hit him in the face with his elbow, and Steve realized, ears ringing, that he wasn’t going to win this fight. Loki followed up with a blow to Steve’s knees, knocking him flat on his back. 

Steve didn’t have time to recover before Loki was on top of him, pinning him to the ground. The hold was tight, and Steve could only look at Loki’s face and wait. 

Loki’s breathing was harsh, and he seemed to be searching Steve’s face for something. The stare was so intense that Steve felt like he needed to say something to break the tension, so he said, “You won.” 

"So I did," Loki muttered. 

"What’s wrong?" Steve asked. "This wasn’t play-sparring." 

Loki frowned at him. “Nothing is wrong.” 

"Loki, you nearly broke my nose," Steve pointed out. 

Loki reached a hand out to Steve’s aching nose and brushed it. “Do you trust me?” he asked softly. 

"Yeah," Steve said. Loki was wearing that scrutinizing look again, so Steve decided not to hide anything. "I do." 

"I could kill you right now," Loki said. "I have you at my mercy." 

"You won’t," Steve said. He grinned. "You like me too much." Threats like that had stopped bothering him a long time ago. Now he saw them for what they were. 

"So I do," Loki said. He touched Steve’s nose; warmth spread through Steve’s face, and when it left, so did the pain.


	19. Dream Fever

Steve slept on his side, sometimes curled around Loki, sometimes with Loki curled around him. This night, Loki was enveloped by Steve’s arms, his back fitting perfectly into the curve of Steve’s chest and stomach, Steve’s cheek against his neck.

Loki couldn’t sleep.

Loki often couldn’t sleep. His dreams were not kind. Tonight was no exception, and more and more he would lay in bed dreading the heaviness of exhaustion that would sweep over his mind and body and take him to a place he had no control over.

Steve was warm.

Steve was warmer after having been asleep for some time. His body radiated heat and Loki absorbed it greedily. It chased the coldness from his skin, for a little while.

If only Steve could burn the cold from Loki’s nightmares, from Loki’s mind, where the ice had crept in deep and settled. No matter how much heat Steve gave off, he never cooled until morning, and for that Loki was thankful.


	20. Ameneurosis

It was dark, and Steve watched the planes from the top of Stark Tower.

If he closed his eyes he could imagine Loki there, lightly brushing up against his arm, not wanting to come too close for fear of being pushed away. But Steve would never push him away, and so he would draw Loki closer to tell him that it was okay, that it would always be okay, even if it would take Loki a lifetime to believe it. 

He knew the feeling of Loki’s body against his so well. It wasn’t comfortable in the traditional sense—Loki was bony and tall and more often than not tense, and it took him ages to relax. But it was Loki, and Steve grew into a comfortableness with him that he wouldn’t be able to find with anyone else who wasn’t Loki. 

Steve didn’t close his eyes, because it would remind him that Loki wasn’t there, and he watched the planes in the distance move across the sky and he wished, not for the first time, that he could say goodbye. 

Loki disappeared often and never gave a parting word. Steve never got to wish him well, never got to stand on a train station platform or just before airport security and wave goodbye. Even worse, he never got a return date. He never even got a guarantee of return. 

If Loki were on one of those planes, he would feel better. They had talked about it, argued, and Loki never agreed to say goodbye. Perhaps he was trying to spare Steve something, and Steve didn’t want to be spared. He would rather know than keep wondering. 

He missed Loki, he worried about him, and even if he said so right now and pretended Loki was there, Loki wouldn’t hear him. It wasn’t like his voice could carry on the wind. It wasn’t like Loki would be anywhere nearby. He could be planets away. 

Steve was well aware that thinking on it made it worse. It fed the ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away until Loki returned, hopefully whole, hopefully not having done anything that would put him right back to the place he was when he killed innocent people for the sake of power. 

It was a wish or a prayer that no one was ever really guaranteed to hear. That didn’t stop him from hoping.


	21. Gnasche

Loki’s lips were soft and cool; his manner of kissing, anything but.

He kissed Steve hard, held tight with hands so used to letting go, pressed up against him so that their bodies were entwined and tangled in each other and in the covers of the bed. 

Calm, Steve knew, would come later. 

Loki was kissing his neck, his chest, and then Steve felt a sharp pain in his arm. Loki had bitten him there. Loki bit sometimes, like kissing wasn’t enough, wasn’t strong enough to express exactly how much he felt towards Steve. 

He didn’t draw blood. He took Steve’s arm and held it up, examining the red mark against unmarred skin that wouldn’t stay there for more than a few hours. He leaned forward and kissed the wound, the coolness of his lips taking away some of the sting. 

He dropped Steve’s arm and kissed him on the lips again, and Steve wrapped his arms around Loki. 

"I want all of you," Loki murmured, and Steve could feel Loki’s lips form the words against his own. 

"Me too," he said. 

He didn’t have to see anything to know that Loki was grinning.


	22. Alimento Mori

It was the middle of the night and Loki was asleep.

Steve was not.

Steve had been better about sleeping of late, but sometimes his thoughts kept him awake. Sometimes he felt, again, that urge to never sleep because he might wake up too late.

The last time, in the ice, he thought he’d been plummeting to his death.

Next time he probably wouldn’t be so lucky.

It wasn’t a thought that occurred to him often, that he would die. He wasn’t afraid of death, and he’d certainly avoided it enough. He wouldn’t hesitate to put his life on the line. Granted, in those moments he worked off instinct rather than thought. 

Now he was thinking. 

Loki’s anger at his risk-taking in potentially deadly situations for the good of others was something he hadn’t really understood. But now he wondered what would happen if he died, and Loki was still around. 

He worried more about Loki’s death than his own, even though Loki had lived for hundreds of years and would likely live for hundreds more. 

He thought about the flash of fear in Loki’s eyes every time he heard about a close-call for Steve, or healed an injury, or heard about a dangerous mission. He never shared that fear. It didn’t really occur to him. 

The thing was, he knew what it was like to be left behind while the ones you loved were dead. Bucky, Peggy, his mother—everyone he’d known was gone when he came out of the ice. Either the war took them, or if it didn’t time finished the job. His heart still ached to think about the time he’d lost with them, and the time he’d never have. 

Perhaps that was why he didn’t worry about his own life. He didn’t want to be the one left behind. Not again. 

It was a desire that brought with it a pang of guilt, because Steve knew that if he died first, Loki would be left behind. 

Loki once mentioned that there were things worse than death. Steve agreed with him. Watching someone else you loved die was one of them. 

And yet, he could not, for all of Loki’s fears and anger, for all that he knew what it might do to him, stop putting himself in front of every bullet aimed at someone else.


	23. Waldosia

Tony Stark’s Christmas party was the hottest party in NYC. Everyone wanted to be there, dressed up like they were going to a ball, drinking the most expensive liquors and champagne known to man, and interacting with the most famous of the famous currently in the city.

Steve didn’t really want to be there.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like people, but rather that he liked to interact with people and the place for that wasn’t at Tony’s party. There were hundreds of guests, most of which he didn’t know, and not many of them were there for any real sort of interaction. Steve had already been flirted with by several people, taken pictures with several more, and had received about a dozen knowing looks from Clint and Natasha, who looked similarly bored.

Tony was the center of attention.

Steve leaned against the bar sipping a glass of champagne that wouldn’t get him drunk or even tipsy. He wished he could be drunk; it would make the party more bearable.

It was Christmas Eve and Steve didn’t want to spend it here.

He wouldn’t have minded spending the night with the Avengers. That would have been nice.

But, even more, he wanted to spend the night with Loki. Loki, who had never had a Christmas before. Loki, who probably didn’t even know what it meant, only that Steve enjoyed it.

Loki, who wouldn’t come near the Avengers if his life depended on it.

Loki was definitely not in the crowd as Steve scanned the room. Not that he would be. He hadn’t been invited, and when he’d heard about the party he’d expressed disdain for the event, saying that it was Stark’s way of pointlessly showing off. When Steve told him that it was a holiday celebration Loki asked, “Is that the point of this holiday?”

"No," Steve admitted. "It’s to be with your loved ones."

"Ah," was all Loki said, but in a tone that clearly indicated that he thought Stark was missing the point. 

Now Steve couldn’t even find his team among the crowd. Even Clint and Natasha, disinterested as they’d been before, had somehow been lost in the midst of the guests. 

A hand tapped on Steve’s shoulder. 

Steve turned around and Loki was standing there, wearing a suit and a green scarf and looking like he belonged at this sophisticated event more than Steve ever would. His lips were turned up in just the hint of a grin. 

"What a celebration," Loki said. "Enjoying yourself?" 

Steve almost laughed out loud. “I’m bored,” he admitted. 

Loki scanned the crowd and turned back to Steve, eyes sparkling. “I believe I can help with that. Unless this is how you want to spend your holiday.” There was just the slightest bit of emotion behind the otherwise lighthearted words, as if Loki believed Steve would rather spend his holiday here than with him. 

"Nah," Steve said. "I’m supposed to be spending time with loved ones, after all." 

Loki’s eyes widened slightly, but then he grinned and took Steve’s wrist. Nobody noticed as he spirited them both away.


	24. Antematter

There was a Loki before. Before he found out his true heritage. Before bitterness and rage and self-loathing had taken over. Before New York. 

Steve had never seen this Loki before, but he imagined he was seeing him now. 

Loki before looked younger. His hair was shorter, curled against his neck, not touching his shoulders as it did now. His face was slightly fuller. His eyes—Steve couldn’t put his finger on it, but Loki’s eyes looked like they had seen less, and seen less horror than they had before. 

They were sitting on the bifrost. 

Steve had never been to Asgard. He hadn’t even seen the bifrost, but he’d heard it described to him by Thor, Loki, and Jane Foster. Thor talked about the beauty of the bifrost, its many colors reflecting off the stars above and below. Jane talked about how amazing the technology of the bifrost was, craftsmanship melded with magic. 

Loki talked, once, about the bifrost being destroy. About falling from the bifrost into the void below. 

Now they sat with their feet dangling over the edge. Loki showed no fear, only curiosity as he peered over his legs to the water falling into nothing. 

Their shoulders were touching. 

Steve realized. This was Loki’s ice. That moment, hanging over the edge, nothing below, fully prepared to die, even wanting it. What came after—Loki had mentioned horrors, and then he never mentioned it again. This was the moment Loki never wanted to return to. 

"Is something wrong?" the Loki in front of him asked, his brows drawn together in confusion. 

"It’s a long way down," Steve said, a little breathlessly. 

"Yes," Loki agreed. "Do you like it?" He looked emotionless, but carefully so. Steve knew this meant something to him. 

"It’s beautiful," he said. 

Loki nodded. “I thought you might like it.” 

"I want to paint it," Steve said, his eyes returning to the falling water and the stars. "I don’t think I could ever do it justice." 

"It would be your version of the bifrost," Loki said. "It would be beautiful." 

Steve wanted to say that Loki was being too kind. His voice caught. Loki never was calm about Asgard or anything on it. He’d never referred to it as beautiful. He certainly wouldn’t show him the bifrost. Not after what had happened. He wouldn’t want Steve to see the place where he’d fallen so far. 

Except…Steve wasn’t seeing that. This was Loki before. 

Was that Loki’s intention?

He was about to ask if this was a dream, because this wasn’t Loki as he knew him, even if it was. It was more of another Loki. One Steve knew he had never met and would never meet. He was about to ask, but then everything blurred and ran like watercolor paint-

Steve woke up in his bed, Loki beside him. He wanted to ask. 

He wanted to ask when Loki scrutinized him over breakfast, but he said nothing, and neither did Loki. He wanted to ask when he took out his sketchbook to pencil in his vague memories of the bifrost, but Loki didn’t ask him what he was doing. 

Loki said nothing at all. 

This was Loki now, and so Steve kept his silence.


	25. The Bends

The trip was part of Steve’s “show Loki New York” plan. 

Loki knew the city was special to Steve. Changed as it was from the time Steve frequented the streets of Brooklyn, it was his home. It was where he grew up. It was an important part of him. 

Steve loved the city, and Loki wanted to love it, too, because it was part of Steve. 

He found it difficult. 

New York City was a fascinating place. Even when he thought of mortals as nothing more than insects (and some of them still were insects to him) he could admit that. The buildings rose as high, if not higher, than some of the spires in Asgard. Structure upon structure rose from the ground, making way only for roads packed with cars and the occasional park. It smelled like car fumes and garbage with the occasional whiff of some savory dish that could make anybody’s mouth water. 

There were so many people. 

Steve liked to take the subways and the buses. He liked to walk the streets. Loki suggested teleporting to the places Steve wished to show him and Steve shook his head and said, “I’m not just showing you a few places. I’m showing you the whole city.” 

It made sense. 

But there were people everywhere. Digging their elbows into Loki’s back and sides on a subway train car. Jostling him in the train stations. Dodging in and out of his path on the streets. And every time, he felt faintly ill, and by the time they were back in Steve’s room or in Loki’s apartments, Loki had a throbbing headache between his eyes that he wouldn’t tell Steve about. He would want to do nothing but sleep, but he would tell Steve that he’d enjoyed their outing, and that more and more he was finding that he loved the city, too. 

A lie, perhaps, but Loki was good at those. 

He could never tell Steve why it bothered him so, to be among the people. He couldn’t say, “I could have killed them all, and wouldn’t have cared.” When they passed a construction site that most New Yorkers wouldn’t spare a second glance to, Loki felt his heart beat faster. And yet they walked past it all the same. 

Steve probably wondered whether he felt bad about it. Loki was sorry for the people he’d hurt. He was not sorry that he’d made the decision to invade the Earth. 

The problem was that the presence of people was constant. New York City was nothing but people. 

Loki believed this was his punishment. He deserved it. Steve would never look at it this way. Steve would tell him that he was forming better associations than Loki’s previous ones with the city. Loki knew it wasn’t going to work. Not as long as he remembered. 

So as Steve talked about the virtues of the festivals in Little Italy, Loki smiled. For Steve, he would try to push past the sadness, or endure it.


	26. Ecstatic Shock

"Stark," Loki said. Tony had caught up with him as he was walking down a side street. Caught up being a generous term for "stalked." Loki knew he was being tracked and it didn’t matter. Tony wasn’t even in his suit. 

"I don’t want trouble," Tony said. He stopped walking. Loki didn’t. After a few moments of standing awkwardly on the sidewalk, realizing that Loki wasn’t going to stop, Tony ran to catch up and fell into stride with Loki as they turned a corner. 

"Just, it seems a bit weird," Tony continued. "You came here looking to enslave us silly mortals with your armor and your leather and your glowstick of destiny and now you’re just—what even is that? That’s a scarf. You’re dressed like a human and you don’t even have weapons." 

Loki flicked his wrist and a dagger appeared in his hand. 

"Okay," Tony said, "so you have weapons. But you know what I mean." 

The dagger disappeared. “I assure you I still have my armor as well.” 

"What changed?" Tony asked. 

Loki merely glanced at him and continued walking. 

Tony sighed and looked over Loki. Then he said, “You have to know we’ve been watching you.” 

"You’ve probably found nothing of interest," Loki said. 

"A few questionable activities but nothing Avengers worthy," Tony said. 

"Do you want me to make it worth your while?" Loki asked.

"No," Tony said. "Just—you wear that scarf all the time. You don’t wear the same clothes all the time. Your closet’s probably bigger than mine. But that scarf. Where’d you get it?" 

Loki stopped in front of a coffee shop and gave Tony a thin smile. “It is a scarf that suits me,” he said. “Do you have any more inane questions you wish to ask me?” 

"A few, actually," Tony said. "Like-" He paused. 

Loki’s disdainful gaze had moved to a point over Tony’s shoulder, and all that distaste melted away. Loki’s eyes widened, slightly and then, slowly, his lips curved. 

Into a smile. 

It was a genuine smile that lit up Loki’s face, not one of those nasty sharp things full of teeth that he usually directed at the Avengers or Thor. This smile make his eyes sparkle, brought color to his face, and made him look, well, not like a vengeful god. And there was a fondness there, too. Tony recognized it. He’d seen Pepper smile at him the same way when she wasn’t angry at him for something. 

He turned around to see what Loki was smiling at and saw Steve crossing the nearest street, walking towards them. Also smiling. 

Loki’s good behavior, Steve’s disappearances, and even the scarf made sense now. 

Tony felt distinctly like he was intruding on something. He turned back to Loki and said, “You know what, I think I’ll ask those questions later.” 

Loki didn’t even spare him a glance as Tony moved past him and hurried down the street.


	27. Anchorage

"Your…skin," Loki whispered, running his cool fingers down Steve’s cheek.

They’d done this countless times before, touching each other with no other intent than to memorize the lines and curves and dips of each others’ bodies. To know each scar, each story of each others’ pasts marked on their bodies. 

Loki’s eyes widened as he again ran his fingers, much more slowly, from the corner of Steve’s left eye, down his cheek, coming to a stop just below his lower lip.

"What’s wrong?" Steve asked.

Loki didn’t say anything. He pressed his lips to Steve’s, so that Steve wouldn’t say anything, either.

An hour later found them lying, still awake, in bed. Steve had turned on his side to watch Loki stare at the ceiling.

"What’s wrong?" he asked. 

"Do I appear different to you?" Loki asked. 

"What?" 

"Since we first met. Do I appear different to you?" 

"Well, yeah," Steve said. "You’re, um, less angry most of the time. You fixed your hair. You don’t wear your armor." 

Loki closed his eyes. “Do I look older?” 

"No," Steve said. 

"Time passes slowly for me," Loki said after a moment. "It doesn’t wear on me as it might someone else." 

Steve frowned. “You mean me.” 

"You have wrinkles," Loki said. "They were not there before." 

"Well, I am getting older," Steve pointed out. "And I didn’t notice-"

"Small," Loki said. "Barely there. But there all the same. It’s too soon." 

"Technically," Steve said, "I’m over seventy or something. I’d say it’s about time." 

"Seventy is nothing," Loki murmured. 

"I feel like I’ve lived for a long time," Steve said. 

Loki turned to look at him. 

"I’m human," Steve felt the need to remind him. 

Something, fear or hurt or both, flashed in Loki’s eyes before he turned to look at the ceiling again. 

Steve closed his eyes. How many years did he have? Already he had distanced himself from his time in the ice. And every day, he headed closer to death. He understood why sometimes Loki held him and kissed him like he never wanted to let him go. 

How many years did Loki have?


	28. Rubatosis

His heart beat in time with nothing; it was erratic, too fast, too present. It made his blood feel like it was boiling, made his head throb, and his hands shake. 

Loki tried again to manipulate the water in the bowl in front of him. It was the simplest of spells, child’s play. He often did it when he needed a distraction. 

He needed a distraction, now. 

But his hands shook as he coaxed a stream of water into the air and tried to shape it into a snake. The water shimmered in place for a moment, then exploded outwards, soaking the table and Loki’s arms. 

Loki stared at the mess in front of him, and his heart beat even harder, and he felt like he was going to be sick. 

All because of a mortal. 

He shouldn’t have cared. If Steve didn’t come back, it shouldn’t have mattered. He knew Steve would die, and that he would be left behind. He knew Steve would die of old age, or on one of his missions with the Avengers. This mission was no different. 

But Loki couldn’t stop shaking. 

He couldn’t couldn’t stand the possibility that Steve might not come home and it horrified him. 

Why had he let himself care so much about someone who’s life was so fleeting? 

It was too late. He couldn’t make himself not care. He couldn’t slow his heart and he couldn’t ignore it. 

He could only wait for the moment Steve would not come back, the moment when his heart would break.


	29. Kenopsia

"This is where I was born," Loki said.

They were in a temple made of ice. Everything looked silver and blue, and it was quiet, save for the wind howling in the distance. A sharp chill drilled its way through Steve’s skin and into his blood, his bones, his heart.

Cracks appeared in the sheets and spires of ice. Some were crumbled, having fell long ago. Some looked like they didn’t have long until they, too, fell. 

In the middle of the cavernous temple of ice, there was an alter. It was plain, not decorated, with nothing upon it. 

Loki walked over and placed his hand on the alter’s surface. The cold didn’t seem to affect him at all, even though Steve knew the surface must have been freezing. Loki didn’t flinch. He just looked down upon the alter, and his face looked like it had been carved in ice, all sharp edges and unmoving. 

Steve looked around. This place looked as if it could have once been beautiful, but now it looked abandoned. 

When he looked back at Loki, he noticed that Loki’s hand upon the alter was tinged blue, and strange lines ran up the back of his hand, disappearing under his clothes. 

"Where are we?" he asked.

"Jotunheim," Loki said. 

Steve exhaled. He knew Loki was a Frost Giant. He knew Loki hadn’t been born on Asgard. And this, this was something he’d known Loki would never show him. 

Until now. 

Now he saw Jotunheim. Now he saw the desolation and the despair, so different from Asgard’s radiance. Now he saw the blue of Loki’s hand and the markings, and even though the rest of Loki remained as before, he knew Loki was showing him something that he didn’t show. The devastating truth that he had found out only years before. 

Loki was looking at Steve. 

"Thank you," Steve said. 

The temple melted away, and in its place, Steve’s bedroom appeared. They were standing a few feet apart, Loki’s hand resting on air, its color returned ghostly white and lines gone. 

"Do you think less of me?" he asked quietly. 

"No," Steve said. "Of course not." 

Loki nodded. He let his hand drop.


	30. Opia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, if you're looking for the meaning of these chapter titles, go to the dictionary of obscure sorrows! I had a lot of fun writing these, and it definitely made the month more interesting. I hope you've enjoyed!

Steve felt the bullets tear through his chest, punching through skin and bone. Multiple bullets, none of them killing him outright, but as Steve fell, he knew that it would not be long before they did. 

He was bleeding. He could feel the warm blood rushing over his chest, and over the concrete. He was staring at the sky, and he heard yelling over the comms. He caught Natasha saying, “Stay with us!” 

Steve coughed, and blood made his pale lips look alive. 

He blinked. Someone was shouting. He blinked again, and when he opened his eyes, a familiar face looked down at him, pale and eyes blazing with fire. 

Loki looked like a god. Steve had never believed him to be a god, but now Loki’s eyes were alight with fury, and he practically glowed with magic. 

"Steve," he said, sharply, and the world un-blurred for a moment. 

A strange coolness began to spread through Steve’s body from a point on his chest, taking over the pain and numbing it. He felt tired. 

"The others," Steve managed, because they’d been fighting a deadly enemy. Clearly very deadly, judging from Steve’s position on the ground, slowly bleeding out. 

"Fine," Loki said. His eyes were roaming over Steve’s chest, anger growing stronger. "I killed your adversaries. They never should have-"

"How did you know?" Steve asked. 

Loki didn’t answer. “There are so many-“

"Loki," Steve said, and then coughed, more blood coating his lips and chin. 

"Quiet," Loki snapped. His eyes were fixed on Steve’s chest. The cold grew more intense. 

"You can’t help me," Steve said. "It’s time." 

"Be quiet," Loki repeated. 

"I don’t mind," Steve said. "Loki—everyone dies." They had talked about this before. Loki had never really listened. 

Loki shook his head. “Not now.”

Steve felt himself grow heavy with exhaustion. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. He could barely keep his eyes open, the scene in front of him was blurring. 

He felt a cold hand on his cheek, and cool lips against his. He managed to refocus his gaze and found Loki’s green eyes staring straight into his with an intensity that was startling. Loki’s lips were stained red, contrasting almost garishly with his pale face. 

"There will be nothing to be sorry about,” Loki said. 

There were many questions Steve wanted to ask. What, or how, and yet when his lips moved nothing came out. He couldn’t draw the air to speak. 

His whole body was freezing. His chest felt like it was made of ice. Blackness crept into his vision, starting at the edges and moving in fast. 

There were many things he wanted to say to Loki, but he hadn’t the breath to say them. 

Loki’s eyes were wide and very green and looking at Steve like he was the only thing that mattered in the world; his face was pale, and his lips were too red and slightly parted. 

And then everything went black.


End file.
